


Forgotten Treasure

by mary_sued



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Multi, Slow Burn, but definitely capable Bilbo, not exactly BAMF Bilbo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-17 23:08:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11278677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mary_sued/pseuds/mary_sued
Summary: A classic 'girl becomes part of the company' fic. I could try and dress it up but really, why bother.It's really good, I promise.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I put this up previously, but I took it down because I thought I wouldn't continue it. But then I thought, 'even if it sputters and dies, and despite hating when people abandon fics, some of my favourite pieces are unfinished. And even those inspired me to daydream and write things myself, so I may as well put it up.'  
> Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Storms this strong were a rarity in the Shire. The thick grass covering rolling hills of Hobbit holes whipped in the gale and the few large, deep-rooted trees creaked under the strain. Raindrops lashed at the green door of Bag End and every decent, respectable Hobbit was snug inside their smial, huddled together by crackling fires and oblivious to the weather that raged beyond their little rounded windows. Curious then that through the thick sheets of rain there was a single figure, soaked to the bone and moving steadily along a muddy stone path.

Bilbo Baggins was hurrying down the road that skirted the Old Forest. He had been visiting his Brandybuck relations on the opposite end of the Shire, down by the river, and hadn’t anticipated the ferocity of the storm. He was just regretting his refusal of an offer to stay the night, in a nice warm smial where no doubt second dinner had ended and dessert was about to begin, when he heard a faint cry. It was quickly ripped away by the wind but he’d already turned his face into the rain to peer into the dense forest. It was not unknown for wolves to prowl the forest's edge in winter, and spring had only just begun. The cry wasn’t that of a hungry wolf however, it had sounded closer to a fauntling. Could a little one have gotten lost in the forest, stranded out in this storm? Bilbo moved before even completing the thought, almost tripping over himself as he rushed into the forest.

As soon as he crossed the treeline the sound of the rain was muffled. Fat droplets of water gathered amongst the trees and fell haphazardly into the underbrush and roll off the Hobbit's saturated cloak. It was as if there was a heavy silence that could not be broken. Except it was. The cry returned, louder now than in the thick rainfall and was clearly that of an infant. He followed the soft whimpers and cries that pierced the quiet of the forest and finally ducked down next to a dense thicket of underbrush. The odd sounds were coming from a tangled patch of foliage. Bilbo sank to his knees, ignoring the dirt and the damp that seeped into his trousers, and began to cautiously pull at the vines covering the small area. Layers upon layers of ivy he stripped away until suddenly there was a small face peering out from a gap in the leaves.

‘Oh!’ He startled slightly but continued to pull, smiling reassuringly at the child. ‘Hello there, little one. Don’t worry; I’ll have you out of there in a jiffy.’

Soon he had uncovered what appeared to be a cocoon or crib made entirely of ivy vines woven together. The child inside was looking at him with open curiosity, her dark brown eyes holding his with no fear. She appeared to be searching for something and seemed satisfied, as her mouth stretched into a wide smile that he answered in kind. She tugged on the vines of her little cocoon, pulling herself to stand on stocky legs. Two shaky steps and she near toppled over the edge, saved by Bilbo’s arms quickly coming to support her and her own two hands clenched into little fists in his cloak.

‘Whoa there, where do you think you’re going?’ She glanced up at him through her lashes and the grin was back as he carefully lifted her out onto the ground.

She was about half his height with wispy brown hair down to her shoulders and dark inquisitive eyes. Her clothes looked beautifully made and certainly finer than any clothing made for a young fauntling. One thing was for certain, she was no Hobbit. This was all he could see before she rushed at him, quickly pushing into his cloak and curling into him. He fell back with a muffled ‘oof’ and sat there for a moment. What was he to do with this child? He couldn’t very well leave her out here. No matter the wolves, the lack of food and shelter would surely kill her.

His mind made, he scooped the child up and propped her against his hip. He adjusted the cloak over her fully to protect her as best he could from the storm and returned to the edge of the forest to once again begin his trudge home. He felt small arms and tiny fingers cling tightly to his waistcoat and his heart began to swell. Fauntling or not, he would protect her.


	2. Unexpected Company

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many names, holy moly. No wonder the book only focuses on, like, three. Good luck keeping up with them, because I had a hell of a time and I wrote the thing.  
> Gonna divert from canon ASAP bc reading the book again scene by scene is not my intent. Also, re-reading this, I totally live up to my name. If you can believe it, I edited this to make it LESS mary-sue. You're welcome.

Years later a woman walked down a dusty stone path on the edge of the Old Forest. Her hair had grown just past her waist and tied in a simple braid. She delighted in cutting and stitching Hobbit dresses into creations that would fit her body but they were often ugly, failed things. Mrs Gamgee, bless her heart, spent hours unpicking and sewing outfits with her that were ‘fit to be worn in public.’ The sleeves of this particular dress were a bit tight on her arms but the length kept it from the dust and mud of the road so she didn’t mind. A huge picnic basket swung wildly from the crook of her arm, stuffed to the brim with bread and cheese. The Brandybucks had gifted it to Bilbo for a set of matching dining chairs he had crafted for them. She had left the merry house much later than intended and was now paying for it by running home in the dusk.

Turning the corner, the front yard came into view and she quickened her pace, ready to have a hot meal and relax. The sight of Bag End’s signature green door was comforting but she barely stopped to look at it before jumping the short fence. She stumbled slightly on her way up the grassy slope to the back garden, finding it difficult to see the dirt path she had worn into the hill from use in the fading light. There she could finally come in through the back door. It was closer to the kitchen and her bedroom so Bilbo had it made larger to prevent her from bumping her head every time she came through. It was thoughtful and she appreciated not having a splitting headache every time she came home and forgot to duck.

The door creaked loudly as she entered and she became aware of the stagnant silence within. Bilbo said he would be home, although as she hung up her cloak she thought he may have gone to bed. Usually she would hear a ‘welcome home Ivy’ or ‘take your boots off before you ruin my floor.’

Just as she was pondering grabbing a light snack and retiring herself, she heard the clink of cutlery against a plate. She smiled and called out ‘I’m home!’

There wasn’t an immediate response but she continued, ‘Sorry I’m late, the little ones wouldn’t let me go. I swear that house grows quicker than a warren of rabbits! I have about two pounds of cheese and almost double that of bread. The Brandybucks seem to really love their new chairs...’

She wandered her way toward the kitchen, intent on dropping off her parcel and maybe joining in for tea, but stopped dead in the doorway to the dining room. Sitting at their table, with a plate of what she could only assume was dinner, was a dwarf.

Ivy knew he was a dwarf because he was taller than a Hobbit but smaller than a man. He was bald with a beard, as if his hair had grown on the wrong end of his head, with had great muscular arms that spoke of hard work. He was wearing some worn armour over peasant clothes. He looked like an adventurer.

Bilbo was stood not far from him, his fists clenching and unclenching rapidly betraying his nervousness. She started when the dwarfs’ eyes locked with hers and forced a pleasant smile that was not returned.

‘Pardon me, I didn’t realise Bilbo had invited guests.’ She bowed her head slightly, still unsure if he was invited or not and he returned it stiffly.

Before she could ask anything there was a knock at the door. She left the basket on the side table with a silent promise to return and gestured at Bilbo to take care of the guest while she slipped back into the hall. The knocks had become louder and she scowled. The door would be scratched if they kept that up. She put on her best host smile as she tugged it open.

Standing outside was another dwarf with a white beard and a kindly face. He seemed surprised to see her but brushed inside quickly where he hung his cloak next to, presumably, his companions.

‘Good evening lass. Looks like they’re beginning to arrive already.’ The door swung closed behind him and as he smiled Ivy couldn’t help but wonder who exactly ‘they’ were.

She had barely turned her head to watch him disappear into the dining room when there was another knock. This time she opened the door to find two dwarves. Both wore matching mischievous smiles and if she hadn’t already let in two she would have closed the door at once. As it were they pushed in almost immediately and bowed low, speaking quickly and finishing each other’s sentences.

‘Good evening my lady! Sirs Kili,’ The dark haired one stood first, gesturing grandly to his blonde companion, ‘and Fili at your service.’

‘Ivy Baggins, at yours and your families.’ Her response was correct and polite.

Theirs was to each hang their hoods and drop their bags haphazardly in the hall before entering the dining room one after the other, winking cheekily at her on the way.

If it weren’t for her duty as hostess to answer the next knock on the door she would have shown them what they could do with their bags. However, Bilbo had raised her to be gracious and polite as a host, even if the company was less so, and Ivy held to his standards. Soon after the ‘Sirs’ came a party of five. As each passed she was given a name to a face; Dori, a white haired dwarf with intricate braids holding back his hair who was leading behind him a shy Ori, followed by a scowling Nori. She assumed they were related, as were the last two Oin, who had her speak to him three times, the third almost directly into his ear trumpet, and Gloin. They were invited in as courteously as she could and directed to the now crowded dining room.

The next three at the door were polite, if quite tired and eager for dinner. She had lost count of the dwarves traipsing into her house and it seemed every dwarven family in Middle-Earth was at her service and she theirs. Bifur had startled her with the piece of metal clearly through his forehead and inability to speak. He bowed as prettily as the rest however and after she recovered from the initial shock she was ashamed at herself. His brother Bofur had stepped in to translate for him and she had an awkward moment of not knowing who to look at as she spoke. She gave up her seat to the largest of them, Bombur, and began her duties.

Ivy and Bilbo spent the next half an hour responding to calls for coffee, tea, wine, cakes, bread and biscuits for their guests. It was Bilbo that finally ran out of patience and grumbled in the kitchen about no one else offering to help serve. He had barely finished speaking before pairs of dwarves appeared, Balin and Dwalin followed by Fili and Kili, to swoop into the pantry and pilfer all they could find. Shelves of cheese and barrels of ale were emptied in minutes and as the larder emptied the table began to groan.

Ivy found herself pushed from the kitchen and seated in front of an ever growing mountain of food. She was soon joined by the rest of the dwarves and a flustered Bilbo. Time passed as they ate and talked with Bilbo growing increasingly uncomfortable. They took turns telling stories about gold and dragons and wars and death. It sounded far too much like an adventure and he was against them on principle. Ivy, however, was entranced. The passion and excitement in their words had sparked something within her and she sat with her head propped up on her arms, elbows firmly on the table much to Bilbo’s chagrin, and listened.

So engrossed was she that she barely heard the knock. She loathed leaving the conversation; Dwalin had just begun to recount a particularly valiant battle. If it weren’t for Bombur assuring her there were only two people left to arrive she may not have hurried so swiftly to the door and opened it with such force. Then perhaps Thorin Oakenshield, a very important dwarf who had been leaning on the door to speak to the wizard behind him, would not have tumbled into the hallway flat on his back, surprised and indignant.

However she did exactly this and the apologies died on her lips as she looked down at him. His eyes were wide with alarm and he had caught himself with one arm pushed up on his elbow. He turned to her, planning to give some sort of reprimand or await an apology but he too stilled. She felt as though she knew him. Her eyes broke from his and fell to his clothes. They were plain and worn, though his cloak was a lovely deep blue with silver tassels.  It looked new. She glanced back up to his face, cheeks burning at her behaviour and realised his beard was cropped.

 _Cropped in mourning_ her mind supplied, _for once it was as long as his hair and braided intricately with jewelled beads_. This snapped her out of her reverie and she stuttered some correct response, begging his pardon again and again. Ivy shook the feelings out of her mind. She couldn’t possibly know him; she had never seen him before. It must have been some odd sense of déjà vu, she thought as she helped pull him to his feet. She gave him a polite smile as he stared; aware she had made both of them look foolish in a single stroke. He appeared transfixed, oblivious to her embarrassment and only came to himself once Gandalf stepped in behind him.

Gandalf was much larger than any dwarf and his stooped figure filled the entire front of the hallway. It must have been uncomfortable, Ivy had smacked her head on that door more times than she could count, but the sight of him distracted her from her duty as a host. She should have invited him in directly to sit and rest, possibly offered him a glass of water or wine. Instead she began:

‘Oh my, are you Gandalf? I’ve heard many things about you! Not all of them good I must say but the people here do speak an awful lot without saying anything at all so who’s to say what is true or not. Are you here for a party? Is that why so many have come? Bilbo did go on about some wonderful fireworks you let off some years ago—‘

She had never met him personally, but every scrap of news travels through the Shire in  days. Hobbits thrive on gossip and rumours of Gandalf were always followed with grand tales of mystery and adventure. Such stories were scandalous in Hobbiton and therefore circulated all the more. She was so terribly excited to see him that she rambled unfiltered and not everything being said was flattering. This, in general, is not at all how you should treat guests, especially those stuck in a hallway too small for them with the chill of the night air at their back.

However, he laughed deeply as he stepped through the hallway, moving toward the obnoxious racket of twelve dwarves and a confused Hobbit without direction, ‘Truly remarkable that one as young as yourself can know me at a glance through story alone and Mister Baggins himself had to be told.’

He pushed into the dining room where a hush suddenly fell. Looking in from the doorway she could see all the dwarves turned to face the newest arrivals. As she had been holding them up in the hallway it seemed the dwarves had been cleaning. The table that had once been creaking under the weight of almost their entire pantry was now empty and around it sat the company. There was a respectful silence, heavy with anticipation as Thorin moved to the head of the table and once seated met the eyes of each of his companions.

Thus began the meeting.

 

 

 _Perhaps I should have stopped them sooner_ , thought Ivy as she fanned an unconscious Bilbo in the dining room. It turned out Thorin was a king, King of the Lonely Mountain Erebor, which had been taken from him, along with thousands of dwarves by the great fire-wyrm Smaug. It was a grander tale in full, as the abridged cut the sense of loss and devastation. However, the unabridged description of the dragon descending like a thunderbolt onto the mountain and destroying everything in sight with his needle-like claws, razor teeth and blisteringly hot fire breath had proved too much for the little Hobbit. He had dead fainted, to the delight and concern of many watching, and was now being revived on the floor of the dining room with a glass of red.

She left him when he was able to sit up and sip from shaky fingers and slipped past the family room to prepare some of the guest rooms. Luckily Bag End was built for company so there was no shortage. She opened some windows, fluffed pillows and threw new blankets over beds in the hopes of disguising how ill-prepared they were. It had been an embarrassingly long time since such a large number of guests had stayed the night and from the look of these folk they were in need of a soft bed and good sleep.

As Ivy cleaned she thought about what she had heard. These dwarves were homeless and their kin had been murdered in front of them. It was enough to make her eyes sting with tears, which she hurriedly blinked away. How silly, to cry over what could be just a story. She felt it though, as strongly as if she was there. She could feel the heat of the flames and hear the screams of the damned around her. It was blurry and strange, like reliving a dream, and she chose not to dwell on it. It took the better part of an hour before she deemed the rooms acceptable and when she returned she found that the dwarves had now sprawled around the living room.

Thorin was seated in Bilbo’s favourite fireside armchair and Balin had claimed the foot stool next to Thorin because Bombur had taken Ivy’s chair. Fili, Kili and Ori were all squished onto the guest couch while Nori and Dwalin were leaning against the walls with Oin and Gloin. Bofur sat closest to the couch and was telling what must have been a funny story because the three dwarves were trying desperately not to fall off of their seats laughing. Dori was standing behind them and while he didn’t want to approve he couldn’t stop the curl of his lip. It was a sweet scene with the fire crackling merrily in the background and the knowledge that each was comfortable and full. It was nice to hear the murmur of voices throughout the room.

She smiled at their laughter and entered quietly to avoid interrupting the story. Balin caught eyes with her and looked away immediately as though he didn’t want to see her reaction. The smile slid off her face and she crept closer. Each dwarf that saw her became sombre but said nothing, though Bifur shook his head solemnly, and it was only when she could hear Bofur clearly that she knew why.

‘—dropped to the floor like a sack a’ coal! Knew it soon’s I looked at him, soon’s I saw his cosy little home. He wouldn’t last the journey, never mind brave a dragon.’

By the time he had said this his audience caught sight of Ivy. Ori was the first to stop and had the decency to look guilty. Kili elbowed Fili and they looked anywhere but at her, though her glare was saved for Bofur who had turned to see why everyone was so grim.

‘Were you talking about Bilbo?’ Bofur shifted guiltily and she scowled.

‘How dare you.’

The company recoiled at the words and even Ivy was shocked at the venom in her voice but she continued, righteous anger burning within her.

‘How dare you come into our house as an uninvited guest and empty our larder, then turn and disrespect my family! Never has Bag End seen such dreadful company! I knew as soon as I saw the lot of you turning up at our doorstep that there would be trouble and I’ve had enough!’

There she paused to glance around the room and possibly receive an apology. When none were forthcoming she shook her head slowly.

‘I have been raised with some manners so I’m not going to turn you out into the night but tomorrow I expect you gone before breakfast.’

There was silence for a long moment as the dwarves realised they were being kicked out. Thorin turned to Balin and began conversing in hushed tones. Most of them knew they were going to leave tomorrow morning anyway; this was no punishment to them. However the reality of being turned out for being disrespectful didn’t sit well with some and the air was tense with discomfort. Behind her Bilbo had slipped into the room. He remained close to the entrance and had watched carefully as the scene unfolded. She turned leave and nearly jumped out of her skin, then promptly flushed at being caught behaving rudely.

“Oh! Uh, Bilbo-’

‘Actually, I, uh. I’ve said I’m going with them.’

There was a beat and then, ‘what?’

He looked dreadfully uncomfortable and his nose twitched, as it did when he got nervous. He had hoped to leave while she was sleeping to avoid having to talk about it. A note and a promise to return, a reminder to keep the Sackville-Baggins’ out of the smial and possibly a will. He hadn’t thought that far ahead when he signed the contract to go on this crazy venture.

‘I,’ he cleared his throat where the words were beginning to stick, ‘I have decided to go on this journey as their bur—ahem! Expert Treasure-Hunter.’

Ivy stared at him for almost too long. He began to squirm under her gaze before she spoke.

‘You didn’t think to talk to me about it? We don’t have long to pack.’

Her casual tone caught him off guard and he blinked at her dumbly for a moment. ‘Pack? Pardon, we?’

She gave him a look as if he were acting purposefully dense. ‘Surely you didn’t expect me to stay behind. What on earth was I supposed to do, sit at home and twiddle my thumbs?’

There was a muted giggle from within the room but when she glanced back it was silent and all eyes were averted. They at least have the decency to pretend the conversation was private.

Beside her Bilbo was staring bewildered. Ivy didn’t do things like this. He had told her for years that adventuring was a distasteful practice, uncomfortable and dangerous. He really had expected her to stay behind and mind the smial. Granted now that he thought about it, why would she ever stay when she knew where he was going? While Bilbo was distracted by his own thoughts Ivy pushed past him. She didn’t want to give him any time to argue and after giving the dwarves an earful about how they weren’t wanted she didn’t expect to be welcomed with open arms. She wanted to go to her room. She needed to think, to pack, and to avoid facing her new companions and her own embarrassment.

She remained in her room for hours and only emerged to hear the plan retold in full, with new information courtesy of Gandalf. She spoke to no one and dodged eye contact where she could. Her legs were aching from squatting for lack of a chair by the time the dwarves rearranged themselves around the fireplace and began to sing. She curled up in Bilbo’s vacated armchair inside the circle of singers and propped her head up on the arm to stare into the fire. Bilbo dropped onto the stool next to her and draped his arm across her shoulders, fingers rubbing slow circles into her arm. Their voices blended beautifully and she was lulled to sleep with visions of golden halls feeling more at home than she ever had before.


End file.
